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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27855777">Days like Pages</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon1ightknight/pseuds/moon1ightknight'>moon1ightknight</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Lost in Translation (Webcomic)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Fluff and Angst, I also don't know how to tag things, It starts out cool but then it destroys you (hopefully), Junsu is a background character but we still love him, Long distance relationship but make it magical notebooks but with a touch of time travel, Lost in Translation AU, M/M, i'm sorry in advance, no beta whoops</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:02:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,034</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27855777</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon1ightknight/pseuds/moon1ightknight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Two notebooks connect two boys across time.<br/>Daehyun knows it'll only hurt falling in love, but he tries anyway.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ahn Jaewon | Wyld/Kim Daehyun</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s a truth universally acknowledged- and far from unsaid- that every college student, at some point over the course of their education, realizes that they have developed a caffeine addiction along the way. Tired eyes being coaxed back open with the sickly sweet flavor of an energy drink, or a cup of tea to start an early morning full of studying. For Jaewon, this took the form of late-night trips to his favorite cafe, Coffee Days. And early-morning trips. And mid-afternoon trips… Because, you know, caffeine addiction. </p><p>It was like clockwork, at this point. He would shuffle through the door with that dead-inside look that’s trademark of a college student, and order his usual Americano: or, sometimes, not even properly order- the cute barista knew him and his order too well at this point, which should have been a red flag for his own health, but he chose to ignore. He’d take a seat at his normal seat- to the left, three tables from the back, a perfect combination of secluded but comfortably immersed in the cafe ambiance. He’d sit there for hours, working on whatever project, or sometimes people watching, while making steady progress in drinking his coffee. This was his routine, and there was never really anything remarkable about it to stand out to him or anyone else. Sometimes, he felt like his life was the literal definition of the ‘broken record’ metaphor. </p><p>Nothing was really remarkable… Except for this particular day. There was nothing physically that marked the day as unique, or as something to take note of- in a true winter fashion, the sky was grey and the trees bare; everyone moved on with their day, bundled up in coats and scarves, crowding the streets on their way to work and school. However, as Jaewon made his way to his usual seat- the action being mostly muscle memory at this point- something stood out. Tucked into the corner of the booth, as if it had fallen out of a patron’s pocket, sat a small, leather-bound notebook. </p><p>There wasn’t anything <em> physical </em> about the notebook that would draw a person to it: it was a brown leather journal, with a fraying cord wrapped around it to hold the water-damaged pages closed. It was old and well worn, perhaps, but not particularly <em> remarkable </em>. However, there was something inexplicably captivating about it- a certain magnetic aura, we’ll say. Something that whispered to you, begging you to open it. </p><p>Something magical, even. </p><p>As Jaewon hesitantly slid into the seat, he picked up the journal. He knew he should just hand it to the barista in case someone came looking for their lost treasure- that’s what he would always do in this situation- but something about the aura took hold of him and, well, the next thing he knew he was gingerly opening the notebook. He unwrapped the cord carefully, worried about harming some stranger’s property, even if it was already worse for wear. </p><p>Inside, in hastily written handwriting- as if someone had been writing fast enough so as to try to keep up with the ideas that popped into their mind- was the beginning of what appeared to be a poem: </p><p>
  <em> It's useless to count the stars  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As your gaze flickers across the sky, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Darting from one to another,  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Perhaps darting to the first again, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Losing sight of where it has and hasn't been. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It's useless to count the stars, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But even still, I try  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Though I know it's impossible  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And the number will never be quite right </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Jaewon regarded the poem with a certain curiosity- he’d never heard it before. Perhaps it was an original? Whoever wrote it, they were probably missing it… </p><p>Jaewon knew that he should turn in the notebook- if he lost something he’d been writing, he’d probably be devastated. Plus, it looked as if whoever the owner was had had the notebook for a long time; it was very likely to be sentimental. </p><p>And yet… there was something about the allure to the small object that made it feel nearly impossible to part ways with it. </p><p>A compromise, then. Leave it up to fate, if you will. </p><p>Jaewon decided, after he finished his coffee and a good portion of his final essay, that he wouldn’t turn it in. But he wouldn’t leave it there, either. </p><p>He had to finish his final project soon, anyways. So, he would return tomorrow. If the notebook was still there, then he couldn’t say he didn’t give the owner an opportunity to retrieve the strange treasure. </p><p> </p><p>----</p><p> </p><p>Jaewon wasn’t sure if he was surprised or the complete opposite as he found his way over to his usual table and, inevitably, to the journal. It was sitting in the same spot as he left it, showing no signs of having been touched at all. (Which, in retrospect, struck him as particularly odd- wouldn’t it have been noticed and removed while the table was being cleaned?)</p><p>Impulsively, Jaewon found himself opening the notebook again. The poem had been swimming in the back of his mind all night, haunting him like a ghost as his insomnia led to him wandering out in his backyard and regarding the night sky with a certain new curiosity. He wondered: how many stars <em> were </em>there, anyways?</p><p>He wasn’t sure what he expected when opening the notebook, but it definitely wasn’t what he found: another portion of the poem, just as hastily scrawled as the last. </p><p>
  <em> It's useless to count the stars, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> For even if a number should be found  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> For those illuminating the ground,  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It will always miss those most important. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It's useless to count the stars </em>
</p><p>
  <em> That fill my stomach when I meet your gaze  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Or the ones that dust your cheek  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> In the form of freckles. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The poet was a romantic, then. And they had presumably returned. </p><p>But… Why was the notebook still here? </p><p>Jaewon tried to shove the issue to the back of his mind, knowing that he had to focus on his final essay to pass his class. Half an hour in, though, he gave up: it was hopeless, with the mystery sitting directly next to him. </p><p>Impulsively, he slipped the pocket-sized journal into his pocket and left the coffee shop. If fate was going to play with him and leave the notebook there, then he’d take the bait. </p><p> </p><p>--</p><p>It was another day before Jaewon allowed himself to check out the notebook again. He’d been careful not to obsess over it, worried that if he did then it wouldn’t leave much room in his mind to focus on anything else. It was difficult though, with that strange, nagging aura that the pages had. It called and sung to him, promising something sweet, something hopeful- something he didn’t understand. </p><p>Before going to bed on the third night, he picked the notebook up from where it had been resting on his desk all day. Like two previous instances, he flipped to the poem and read the-</p><p>Six verses? The completed poem? </p><p>That was impossible. Yesterday it had only been half-complete, with four verses. Today, it had been in his room all day. No one could have written in it, all logic considered. </p><p>And yet… there the last two verses were, plain as day: </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It's useless to count the stars  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> For I could never possibly gauge  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The stars, the light, the hope </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Which you give to my universe. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It's useless to count the stars,  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And though no number may ever be true, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There's one thing I can say for sure: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I promise no number ever found  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Could outweigh how much I care for you. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>At the end, an equally odd note was scribbled: -K.D, 2020. This puzzled Jaewon, because normally he would have assumed it was the author’s initials and the date the poem was written. He would have assumed that… if it wasn’t 2019. </p><p> Jaewon puzzled over these new, improbable verses for hours- it kept him up much later than he was willing to admit, but that wasn’t particularly out of the ordinary for him, either. He couldn’t think of any plausible explanation. Home invasion- to what, write a poem and leave? Yea right. </p><p>There was only one explanation that he could think of, but it was literally impossible… right?</p><p>And yet, Jaewon found himself picking up a pen in the early hours when night bled into morning, finally giving in and entertaining the idea. Hesitantly, he opened the pages and wrote in a small, nervous script:</p><p>
  <strong> Who are you, mysterious poet? </strong>
</p><p>And with that, Jaewon forced himself away from the notebook. Like the saying goes: a watched pot doesn’t boil. Even if there was some weird magic fuckery going on with this notebook, he knew he’d only drive himself mad thinking about it. </p><p> </p><p>---</p><p>Jaewon slept lightly that night, waking up every half hour and giving up after drifting in and out several times. Eventually he crawled out of bed, immediately checking the notebook. </p><p>Part of him knew what he was going to see. The rest of him barely believed it because of how fantastical and unrealistic it seemed. But sure enough, as he opened the now-familiar worn cover, there were two sentences scrawled in a neater- but still familiar- handwriting. </p><p>
  <em> Kim Daehyun. And you? </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi I'm still really shy about posting this but also super excited because I haven't written for fun (aka anything beyond essays) in years and this feels so nice</p>
<p>Also,, leave a comment and I'll cry/love you ;-; (You don't have to, though!! Lol)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It took nearly the rest of the day for Jaewon to process what had happened. For a few hours, he seriously considered whether this was some severe side effect of his caffeine addiction- and, to be honest, he still hasn’t completely eliminated that possibility. After all, how many explanations beyond that can there be for ‘I wrote in a notebook and someone wrote back to me’? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Like some magical pre-technology version of texting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But weirder. A </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot </span>
  </em>
  <span>weirder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This explained the initials, at least: Finally, a name to the mystery romantic poet. Kim Daehyun. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But… who? And, more importantly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span>?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a lot of deliberation, he tentatively wrote back. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>My name is Jaewon. </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jaewon knew this was madness. He knew that there was a better explanation for this than what he was coming up with- but, at the same time… He didn’t know that. Because if there was a better explanation than a magical notebook, then surely it would be apparent, and all signs </span>
  <em>
    <span>wouldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> be pointing to his current explanation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a moment of silence. (Can it be called that- silence? When they’re talking, but it’s not verbal) And another moment. Eventually, Jaewon started to believe that all this had been the imagination of a stressed caffeine-addicted insomniac, and a wakeup call to start taking care of himself better- until, finally, words started to appear on the page. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was fascinating, watching the writing. The words didn’t appear all at once like the words of a text did: they manifested, stroke by stroke, as if being written by an invisible hand and nonexistent pen right in Jaewon’s presence. In a way, the creation of the words, the visible spilling of ink onto a page to convey some mystery boy’s thoughts, was beautiful to Jaewon. Like the most intimate- yet baffling- movie. In the scrawl he could see the same level of hesitance, but an overarching curiosity- a deep care and interest, one that Jaewon inexplicably yearned to learn more about.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Wow. Jaewon. It’s super nice to meet you, I didn’t think this would actually work. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jaewon stared in confusion. Daehyun didn’t think what would actually work? What was happening?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Daehyun stared in disbelief. He didn’t actually believe in the notebook. Was this really happening?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After setting down his pen following the completion of his note, Dae closed his notebook and ran a gentle hand over the cover. The old, well-worn object had been a gift from his grandmother, along with the story that was attached to it. He was told that there was an identical journal, somewhere in the world. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And, along with it, someone that the universe decided he was destined to know. To know- but to never meet, for reasons that weren’t quite clear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a story passed down by generations, equal parts mysterious and confusing. It was the sort of story that one would regard as an intergenerational game of telephone: more drama and less truth, with reality slowly fizzling out every time the details were recounted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nevertheless, Daehyun could tell that it was a special gift. It had seen a lot of history, and would continue to see history for years to come. Between its mysteriously blank pages was a story that spanned lifetimes, and that fascinated him. So, he set it in a safe spot and tried not to let his mind wander into the fantastical too much. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But- well, Daehyun was never quite good at curbing his curiosity, was he? It didn’t take long for him to pull the book from his shelf, to open the pages and touch pen to paper. At first, he wasn’t sure what to write. Saying hello felt a bit silly- like writing a diary and expecting someone to call back through the pages. Which was ridiculous. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wasn’t that what he was doing, though?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, he opted on scribbling down the beginning of a poem. For the next three days, he continued- there hadn’t been a response, but even if he was disappointed, deep down he knew he couldn’t say he was surprised. It would be a shame to let the beginning of the poem go to waste though, so for three days, he continued. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hadn’t expected, after the third day, to open the notebook and find a response. It was five simple words- a mere question, but in the small, hesitant handwriting, Daehyun felt like he could read the world. Felt like the pages whispered some deep, inexplicable knowledge and understanding to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt like he understood the world and knew nothing at the same time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He craved to know more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So, without thinking, he wrote his name in response. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And, well, from there it sort of spiraled for both of the boys. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Daehyun explained the story of the notebook to the boy on the other end, who, even through written script, seemed fascinated and full of wonder at the situation. It was kind of cute. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They got to know each other over the course of the next few hours. Daehyun learned that the other boy was named Jaewon (family name to be discovered still), and that he lived relatively close to Daehyun- within bus distance, at least, Daehyun estimated through the vague description of Jaewon’s location. (Of course, it wasn’t like he was entirely positive- even if they were connected by some mysterious magical entity one may call ‘fate’, they still just met each other an hour ago: some basic safety precautions were to be taken.) </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even with that taken into consideration, though, there was a strange connection lying somewhere beneath the pages. As if, somewhere on a more metaphysical level, they had known of each other's existence long before their first meeting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dae’s gaze flickered back to the page to see a new line of script written on the page- the handwriting still somehow resembling the physical form of a whisper, but a bit more confident. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>This is really weird, isn’t it?</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dae smiled softly, laughing a bit to himself. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Well… Yea, probably. But honestly, it’s not the weirdest thing to happen in 2020, so I can’t exactly say it fazes me too much. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The reply from Jaewon was almost instantaneous. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>2020?</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And, well- that’s how, after a few minutes of confusion, the boys worked out two things. (Well, Daehyun worked out two- the second, he didn’t quite know how to verbalize to Jaewon.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One: The notebooks were connected through time, one always traveling a year behind the other. The two boys were living in two different years, one in 2019 and one in 2020. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Two: This is what it was meant when he was told he was destined to know but never meet the person on the other end. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dae didn’t quite understand the feeling of mourning that encompassed him at that realization. He didn’t have it in him to dwell on it, but somewhere deep down, this understanding hurt profoundly. Which was ridiculous- wasn’t it? He didn’t actually know anything about Jaewon. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After the two came to the realization of their separation, the other end of the book was silent for hours until, finally, </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Daehyun? </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was almost embarrassing how quickly Dae wrote back. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Yea?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Do you know much about the Grandfather Paradox? </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Daehyun tapped his pen against the pages of the notebook thoughtfully. He’d heard of it, vaguely- where? Some scifi movie, probably. Wasn’t that where a time traveler killed his grandfather? What an odd thing to bring up. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A little, I think? I’m not sure, why?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Well, do you think we’re at risk of something like that? Like, with that 2020 thing you mentioned earlier- now I know to expect something bad or weird to happen in 2020. But what if something is meant to happen in 2020 as a result of me not expecting it, but since I do expect it, it doesn’t happen? And that changes how the course of others’ lives are meant to happen?</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dae stares at the handwriting, now laced with a strange sense of anxiety- weird, how could he possibly pick up on such an emotion through handwriting? Was it the notebook’s doing?- thinking deeply. He could understand what the other boy was saying, but to be honest, it gave him a headache and an equal amount of anxiety. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Let’s make an agreement then.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>An agreement?</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Let’s promise that I don’t tell you anything that happens in your near future or my recent past, and if I do let something slip, you won’t act on it. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>But what if something really bad happens? What if there’s something we can prevent, like someone’s death or something? </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Daehyun lingers on that for a long moment. Jaewon is right- there are so many people who they could help with this knowledge at their hands. And would that not be the most obvious morally right thing to do, to save people from pain and misery- both preventable deaths and those who mourn them? That would be ideal. Dae’s always been one to try his best to stop people around him from hurting. But…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What if we gauge it wrong and just cause more people to get hurt? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With the time it takes for a response to come, Dae’s sure that Jaewon feels just as conflicted as him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Maybe it’s better to let fate be fate than risk being responsible for something even worse… It feels wrong, though. </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I know</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With that, Dae tried to change the topic- he could tell Jaewon was going to tear himself up inside if he lingered on this, and honestly, Dae feared that he would do just the same. So, as subtly as he could, he dragged the conversation in a different direction. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For the rest of the day, the two traded facts about each other. Daehyun learned the big things- Jaewon’s interest in singing, the stress of his college classes, what his daily routine looked like- and the small things- his favorite animal (sharks), his quiet and hesitant yet deep and caring demeanor, the things that brought a little extra light to his day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Daehyun learned everything, and he loved everything. If he pretended hard enough, he could feel his spirits rising from how low they had sunk from the conversation before and their agreement. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt happy, if he pretended hard enough- but, if he didn’t, he could feel a deep dread deep down. A knowledge that somehow, some way, even if the agreement was theoretically for the best, he was going to end up regretting it. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Once again I refuse to edit/read back because I know I'll hate it and be too scared to post it but if you notice any glaring typos or grammatical errors please let me know :3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*Gently undusts the layer of guilt that has been covering this work in the dark recesses of my mind* I finally wrote chapter three. Sorry for making you guys wait this long for what's literally a filler chapter between the introduction and the action. OTL</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>For the first time in weeks, Jaewon was able to let himself take a breath and just… enjoy existing, really. He was sat at a table outside his favorite coffee shop, sipping at his usual order of an iced americano. Somehow, the coffee tasted even better when complimented with a warm summer breeze, the chattering of pedestrians going on about their lives, and the sweet melodic music of some busker playing guitar at the end of the block. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was his favorite thing to do after the end of any term or school year: he would come down to the same coffee shop, order the same coffee, sit at the same table outside, and watch people happily exist around him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In some weird way, it was incredibly soothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(It was also a painful reminder that the caffeine addiction didn’t end with the school year, but hey, if he didn’t think about that too hard then he didn’t have to acknowledge it.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though this was something Jaewon did constantly, he found it hard to focus on people-watching that particular day. Honestly, he found it hard to focus in </span>
  <em>
    <span>general </span>
  </em>
  <span>lately, which had nearly killed his grades this school year. But how could he be expected to pay attention with Dae constantly interrupting his thoughts?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oftentimes he’d be thrown into a pit of reflection and obsession as he saw something that reminded him of the boy on the other side of the journal: such as now, as he stared down the block at the blonde boy around his age playing guitar for passer-bys. (God, his voice was beautiful.) Jaewon let a soft smile settle onto his face: he’d since learned that Dae writes and plays music. Jaewon wondered if he sounded anything like the boy that captured his attention now. (Some biased part of his mind told him that Dae was probably even better.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Really, the fact that Dae plays guitar is one of the only things that Jaewon is allowed to know about the younger boy. While Jaewon was allowed to share anything and everything he wanted, Dae was terrified that giving Jaewon too much information would change the timeline. Dae knew what Jaewon looked like, with his red hair and hoodie addiction, but he didn’t even know the color of Dae’s hair or his height or anything. Though this was disappointing, Jaewon understood what if Dae described himself, and Jaewon saw someone fitting that description, and changed the timeline by approaching them? It made sense, really, but in a way it still hurt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How well can you really know a person without truly knowing anything about them?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaewon doesn’t know what Dae looks like. He doesn’t know where exactly in Seoul he lives. He doesn’t know where he goes to school. Aside from playing the guitar, he doesn’t know what he does or where he goes in his spare time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aren’t those the basic foundations when it comes to fundamental knowledge about your friends?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But- well, he knows the little things, which means all the world to him. He clutches onto these details, intimate tidbits that not a standard acquaintance would know, and holds onto it with all his love. He knows that he plays guitar and busks (in an unspecified location, of course) to support his family. He knows that he has two best friends named Minsoo and Dongho, who he’s been ranting about non-stop for the last few days. (From what Jaewon could gather, Dae thinks that the two need to get over their romantic tension and just kiss already. Jaewon doesn’t know enough about the situation to have an opinion.) He also knows that Dae has been campaigning against his mom for their family to get a dog for years. (Jaewon personally thinks that Dae is close enough to the personality of a golden retriever that a new puppy might be excessive for the family.) </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Jaewon puts this into perspective, when he goes over everything that he knows about Dae instead of what he doesn’t, he’s vaguely stunned. How could one learn all these things about someone in just a week and a half? That wasn’t much time to get onto such an intimate level with someone, but-. Well, Jaewon isn’t sure if it was the notebook’s magic or Dae’s magnetic, social personality, but time seemed to slow for their conversations: emotionally, it must have been a sum of time longer than eternity that they’d been getting to know each other for. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi I'm really nervous posting this but it's been fun to write so far. Also the poem is something I wrote back in 2018 so sorry if it's cringe. Also I didn't proofread it because I know if I reread it I'd chicken out of posting it sorry</p></blockquote></div></div>
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